The Heart is the Worst Kind of Weapon
by breakdance-not-hearts
Summary: Her name means secret, and that is how her parents planned to keep her. But after a traumatic incident within the family, she is shipped to Hogwarts. She meets two boys, & she knows everything about them, even their fates. And their fates lay in her hands
1. Prologue

Her name means secret. And that was how her parents planned to keep her, until a sudden death in her family caused everything to rearrange itself. She now finds herself entering fifth year at some pristine wizardry school called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She has never been great at adaptation, and she is forced to fit somewhere in the confusing puzzle of a wizardry school, where everyone already has their own friends and don't plan on making new ones. Until one day in Diagon Alley, she meets wizard legend, Harry Potter. But she has met him before and knows more about him then he knows about himself.

They both struggle to figure out where she has met him and how she knows everything about him. Once she entered Hogwarts, it never remained the same. There she meets Draco Malfoy, yet another boy she knows everything about. She keeps secrets about them that she could never tell. She knows both of their fates, and they lie in her hands. In her frail hands lie the strings to their lives, and she must make a decision. Either to play them out how she was taught, or help the only people she has ever cared about. Especially Harry, who is the only person she ever loved and has ever been loved by.

This is a story of heartbreak, drama, angst, trauma, and love. This is the story of Clandestine Lamar.


	2. Scars

Diagon Alley was overcrowded as Harry Potter filed after his good friend Hermione Granger towards a small café.

"How much longer, Hermione? My feet hurt," Harry complained, glancing around in the mobs of people. He jumped as he felt a small hand grab his shin. Looking down, he saw a young child with a toothy grin and large forest green eyes.

"Esme!" A voice called, a pair of arms scooped up the child, "Don't run away from me like that again, you scared me!" A teenage girl scolded, then looked at Harry, "I apologize, she sort of ran away from me, did she do anything?"

Harry felt captivated by this girl's bondi blue eyes, "Uh, no, s-s-she didn't," he managed to stutter.

"Good, again I am really sorry," she smiled and began to turn around.

Hermione looked at Harry quizzically, "Who is she?" She whispered.

"I don't know," he breathed, and then shook himself out of his trance, "Well, are we still going to that café?"

Hermione grinned, "Let's go! We're supposed to meet Ron in ten minutes," Hermione led the way once more.

As Harry took a step, he nearly fell on something in the street. Reaching down, he realized it was a small doll. The child must have dropped it when the girl picked her up, "Hermione!" Harry called.

"Yes?" She turned around, feet in front of the café.

"If you see that girl, please tell me, I found this in the street," he showed her the doll.

"Oh, alright, come on, I am starving," Hermione held the door open for him and they seated themselves in the back, shortly joined by Ron Weasley.

Once the three friends were finished, they left the building and browsed the stores, "What time we have to meet your mum?" Harry asked Ron.

Hermione answered for him, "In an hour, but I still have to get some extra parchment and quills. I think I may buy another pair of dress robes as well. Would you like to accompany me?"  
Harry and Ron looked away quickly, "Alright, obviously not. Well, I am going to find Ginny, and I'll see you in an hour in front of Gringott's," Hermione waved a good-bye.

"Whew, that was close," Ron wiped his forehead.

"Too close, Ron, are you going to buy new dress robes as well?" Harry pointed to a pair of nice black ones in a window.

Ron thought for a moment and dug around in his pocket, fumbling about his coins, "I'm a little short," he said sheepishly. Harry reached in his own pocket and handed Ron some change, "Here, that should cover it."

"I'm not a charity case, Harry," Ron mumbled.

"No, of course not, just take it as a…..uh….payback for being such a jerk last year during the Triwizard Tournament.

Ron's face brightened, "Okay mate, I'll meet you out here in about fifteen minutes," Ron scurried inside.

Harry found an empty bench and sat down by himself. He took a better look at the doll he had found. It was old and ratty, and it seemed like someone had done a lot of crying near it because certain colors were fading and some parts looked damp. In the corner of one foot, Harry thought he noticed a bit of dry blood. Shivering, he looked away. A few yards ahead of him was the girl, "Hey, excuse me!" Harry called to her.

She glanced over, smiled and waved.

"Come here," Harry motioned.

The girl walked over, along with the young girl from earlier, "Yes?" She questioned.

Harry showed her the doll, "Is this yours?"

Her eyes lit up, "That's where it went! Thank you so much," she took it from him and handed it to her sister, who seemed happy to have it back, "You're certainly a lifesaver today….uh….," she looked at him expectantly.

"Harry Potter," he introduced.

"Harry," her eyes narrowed as if thinking. She shook her head and said, "I'm Clandestine Lamar, and this is my younger sister Esme," the little girl smiled and waved.

Harry found himself grinning as well, "It's a pleasure to meet you Clandestine," Harry noted the odd name.

"You can call me Dezzy, Lana, Danny, or whatever," she blushed as if embarrassed by her name, "My name is ridiculous, I know."

"What school do you go to?"

"I was home schooled until this year, and now I am going to be attending Hogwarts, entering as a fifth year," Clandestine explained.

"That's great, I go to Hogwarts, and I am a fifth year as well. How old is Esme?" He asked.

The little girl held up two pudgy fingers, "Two!" She said proudly.

"Wow, two years old! My you are a big girl!" Harry joked around.

"I know!" She clapped her hands excitedly.

Clandestine laughed, "Well, Harry, it has certainly been a pleasure to meet you, but we have to be back in ten minutes. I hope to see you at Hogwarts," she went to shake his hand.

Harry's eyes traveled to her hand, noticing her bony wrist. It was covered in thin crossed slashes, some were healing and some looked fresh. Clandestine saw him looking, and she pulled her hand away quickly, "I'll see you sometime Harry," she hurried, "Come on Esme."


	3. The Question of Beauty

**Warning: The end of the chapter contains some graphic parts, so if you easily squirm, don't read the end**

The following morning, at around 5:30 a.m., Mrs. Lamar was shaking Clandestine awake, "Wake up, let's go, you have to leave in an hour!" She forced her daughter out of bed.

Clandestine rubbed her eyes, and her mother gripped her arm tightly and whipped her up, "I said get the hell up," she pushed her into the bathroom, "Clean yourself up."

Clandestine flicked her mom off as she walked out of the room, "Stupid bit-…" She began, stopping abruptly as Esme entered the bathroom.

"Dezzy!" She called, giving her legs a hug.

"Good morning my sweet Esme," she laughed, ruffling the younger girl's honey colored curls.

"I don't want you to go," she whispered, about to cry.

"Oh Esme, don't worry I'll be back before you know it. Mummy's not going to be home, Aunt Clara is coming up to watch you. Everything will be great, I promise. And you know what to do if it's not right?"  
Esme looked up at her sister tearfully, "Yeah."

Clandestine tried to think of something to say, "Would you like to help me get dressed?"  
Esme loved picking out her outfits, "Oh yes, very much!" She grinned.

She allowed Clandestine to take her into the closet, where Esme gripped different pieces of clothing. She handed Clandestine a pair of jeans they made together the past summer. They were deep blue skinny jeans with self made holes in her upper thigh and knees, and they had a small black and white checkered patch near the right hand pocket. Esme put on a pair of pointy white flats on her sister's feet. Finally, she handed her their favorite shirt, a green polo with a small pocket and her name on the collar.

"You look pretty!" Esme gushed.

"Well, only thanks to you my style guru!" Clandestine gave her sister a big hug and bit her lip to keep herself from crying, "Go get dressed and eat something so you can come with us!"

Esme hurried off into her room, leaving Clandestine to finish getting ready. The headmaster, Dumbledore she believed his name was, sent her a letter asking her to come early to get pre-sorted and for a full tour of the castle. She was supposed to be there around three thirty because the other students didn't get there until around five or six. Her mother told her it takes a while to get to the airport of wherever they were going, so the had to leave by six thirty.

Clandestine washed her face and looked into the mirror, as usual, not liking what she saw. People have told her she was pretty, that her honey blonde hair was gorgeous, and she couldn't be more flawless if she tried. But it always upset her when people said stuff like that. What was beauty anyway? She glanced at her scarred wrists and tender upper arms that definitely were not beautiful. Struggling to forget the cause, she applied her make up lightly.

When she was done, she felt a rush of pain to her head, "Oww," she gasped, gripping onto the bathroom sink. She tenderly rubbed her temples and shook her head, "God dammit, when is that going to stop?" She asked out loud.

As usual, Clandestine opened the second drawer on the left and fumbled around the hardwood. Her hand gripped a washcloth, a pair of thin, trimming scissors, a nail file, alcohol and peroxide, and finally an old, overused razor. She gently put her hand, wrist up, on the clean white counter. The washcloth sat right next to it, along with the rest of her tools. Carefully selecting, she picked the nail file first.

In a quick, sliding motion, she pulled the file across her warm wrist. A small, short pain hit her, going away rather quickly. Next, she chose the scissors and razor. She opened the scissors, placing each blade a distance from the other. Suddenly, she closed it, leaving a line of red taking the blades places. Allowing it to seep a little, she swiftly used the razor, crossing her wrist about five times. Before she knew it, her wrist was a bloody mess.

Clandestine poured the alcohol on it, watching the crimson fall down the sink. She shrieked, biting her lip from the pain. The peroxide helped a tad, and then she let the cold water run over her throbbing, frail wrist. Draping the washcloth over her wrist, she ran into her room to search for some sort of wristband to cover the new marks. Searching in her top drawer, she found a hot pink lacy one; it was bright enough to cover the slits.

"Clandestine, hurry the hell up! I'm leaving in five minutes, so get your lazy, fat, pathetic ass down here!" Her mother screamed.

Clandestine hastily yanked a band-aid on, followed by the lace. She grabbed her over sized bag and tumbled down the stairs. Her mother's eyes roved over the armband, but she made no comment, "Esme's already in the car, go," she pointed to the door.

Clandestine hurried and buckled herself next to her younger sister, "Oh, Dezzy, pretty!" Esme's pudgy fingers gripped her wrist, lightly, but just enough to make her wince in pain, "Dezzy, what's wrong?"

She just smiled at Esme, "Nothing sweetie," she lied, "Everything is……perfect," she breathed.


	4. Stars

As the Lamar's car pulled into the airport, her mother whipped around, "I'm not going in with you. Aunt Clara should be waiting at the gate, get out," she demanded as Esme and Clandestine hopped out of the car.

Esme gripped Clandestine's hand, following her through the mobs of people. At Gate B, there stood their petite, brunette aunt, waiting patiently.

"My darlings!" She exclaimed, kissing them both on their cheeks.

They three said their hellos, and a voice from the loudspeaker announced, "Flight 273, London, England, rows 1 through 9, boarding now. Rows 1 through 9 to London, England, board now please."

Clandestine grabbed her ticket, hugging Clara first, "Good bye, I promise I'll write."

Esme looked up, her eyes moist with tears, "Dezzy, please don't go," she whispered as Clandestine bent down.

"Sweetie, I am so sorry, but I have too, I'll write every week. And I'll probably be home for Christmas break. I'll try really hard to see you, honey," Clandestine couldn't help but cry.

Esme began to bawl and wrapped her in a hug, "Please, Dezzy, don't, please, don't leave me," she wept.

Clandestine bit her lip forcefully, looking at the ceiling. She kissed her sister and gave her a last hug, "I love you more than anything in the whole world Esme. Remember that, please don't cry darling. It'll be alright," Clandestine smiled, "I love you."

"I love you more, Dezzy," Esme smiled back, and the two blew kissed to each other.

On the plane, Clandestine found her seat, so conveniently located next to the window, thank the Lord, but so inconveniently next a larger man with a terrible body odor problem. She pulled out a book and began to read.

After finishing the book, and a meal of pretty good flying food, Clandestine fell asleep to the look of the stars. Every single one, a small glisten. But they were worth so much more then that. Stars were beautiful, every tiny orb, a rare magnificence. Just because there were so many of them, people believed them to be a repetition of each other. Clandestine knew they weren't, they just couldn't be. They held her to sleep throughout the rest of the ride, only to awake with a blazing sun in the midst of blue sky.

SORRY FOR THE RANDOM STAR BIT AND THE SHORT CHAPTER. BOTH HAVE REASONS, BUT I DON'T FEEL LIKE EXPLAINING. THANKS FOR READING, PLEASE R&R


	5. The Sorting

**  
**

Clandestine stepped out into the fresh air after riding in the same dingy black car. The Hogwarts' Castle was even more spectacular then she expected. It was detailed, with gorgeous turrets, and magical (no pun intended). Hagrid, the large, unkempt man who had picked up Clandestine waved her in.

"Well come on missy, Professor Dumbledore is waiting for you inside!" He said in his usual, perky voice.

Clandestine shuffled in, turning into a long, golden room on her left, "You're going to get sorted now! I 'ope you're sorted into Gryffindor!" Hagrid led her down the rows and onto a platform, where an extremely elderly man waiting, smiling grandly.

"Why, Miss Clandestine, what a pleasure to finally meet you!" His frail hand shook hers, "Please, sit," he motioned towards a stool. Clandestine followed his instructions and fell onto the seat, "I am Professor Dumbledore, your Headmaster. It is truly a pleasure to have you at Hogwarts!" His voice echoed throughout the quiet room.

Hagrid bowed his head quickly, "Pardon me, sir, but I got to go care fer some of my creatures before the students come."

"Please, go ahead Hagrid; I'll see you at the dinner!" Clandestine watched the burly man leave.

Suddenly, a tattered hat was being pushed onto her head, "Uh, Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask exactly _what_ you are doing?" She freaked.

"It's how we sort, Clandestine, this is the Sorting Hat. He'll rightfully place you where you belong. You'll be sorted in Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff."

The 'Sorting Hat', as he had called it, took a deep breath. A delicate voice now filled the silence of the Great Hall, "Clandestine? What a peculiar name my dear Clandestine. Your name means secret, and you hold many of them. I can sense a strong connection towards," the hat stopped, and began again, "but back to my sorting. You have a great mind, perfect for Ravenclaw, but you have a sinister side, excellent for Slytherin. I cannot see you anywhere else then………GRYFFINDOR!" The hat bellowed, and Professor Dumbledore politely clapped and took of the ratty hat.

"Very well, superb even!" The Professor grinned, "The perfect house for you."

A tall woman with a pointed face arrived, glancing at Clandestine, "Great timing, Minerva!" The old man continued, "Miss Lamar, this is your Head of House and Transfiguration teacher Professor McGonagall."  
Clandestine smiled and shook her wrinkled hand, "Hello, ma'am, I'm Clandestine Lamar."

"Pleased to meet you," the woman kept her tight-lipped facial expression, "Follow me, I'll you show to your rooms and give you a full tour of the castle."

Clandestine fell onto her plush, crimson bed after the tour of the castle. She didn't know how'd she make it around, the walk practically killed her. Glancing at the clock on the stand, the students should be there in a little less than a half an hour. Clandestine decided to freshen up. Making her way into the shared bathroom, she quickly reapplied her make-up and used a spell she figured out to straighten her hair once more. Running a brush through it, she looked away from the mirror. Mirrors were Clandestine's best friend and worst enemy at the same time.

According to the minute hand, she had ten minutes. Clandestine decided to meander her way down into the Great Hall. The Hall was practically vacant once she sat at the Gryffindor table. Obviously, the students had arrived, and some were already seated. After about ten minutes, something hit Clandestine. She glanced at the other students, then at herself.

"Shoot!" She mumbled, "I forgot to put on my robes!" She was about to get up, but the last pupils sat down, and the Professor began his speech.

"Clandestine!" A voice loudly whispered.

She whipped her head to the left, meeting emerald eyes, "Hey Harry!" Clandestine waved and hurried over, scooting in next to him.

**  
**


End file.
